You Can't Do This
by ryuunorenkinjutsushi
Summary: General Roy Mustang wasn't acting in his normal way. One day, Roy calls in sick, asking Hawkeye to send Ed over to give his report. What the...? A familiar alchemy circle... General, what are you doing? EdRoy, Movie Spoilers
1. Goodbye

It was unusual to see the General devote so much of himself to anything.

Every day, he'd rush through his paperwork, finishing everything before lunch (a feat in and of itself, but a miracle when it came to Mustang). Then he'd punch out and disappear deep into the shelves of the library.

Many of the officers were surprised in his sudden change of behavior, most of all Riza, who had become rather worried. Roy _never_ liked to work. What made him want to do so now?

She'd asked him once, but he waved it off, saying something about having "more important things to do," and though the answer was cryptic she had only second-guessed him once, then went about her business.

Fullmetal, on the other hand, couldn't be more happy. None of the incessant name calling and fighting and best of all, no short jokes. Still, it perplexed him as to why their banter had worn down. He asked Riza, but she gave him the same response as the General, along with a worried look.

* * *

Everything was perfect.

Roy put the chalk down on the table, next to the phone, dusted off his hands and stood.

Earlier that morning, he'd called in sick at the office and asked Hawkeye to send Fullmetal by to give him his report, which was long overdue.

Ed had grudgingly agreed to go with a little urging from Riza's gun. He huffed, then shuffled out of the office and toward the main entrance, in the direction of Roy's flat.

* * *

_Knock, knock, pound,_ came the unmistakable noise of Ed's metal hand on wood.

The door opened just as Ed was about to knock again.

"Here's the stupid report, General," he said, holding out the sheaf of papers.

"Come in, Fullmetal."

"Hey, I don't want to get your- ... you don't look sick." A glare.

"I'm not. If you please..." Roy trailed off, moving away from the door and leaving Edward on the landing, semi-confused.

The blonde alchemist stepped in anyway and followed Roy. He looked around the corner to where the man was standing, next to a large and complex circle on the floor. One glance, then a double-take and stare told him what it was.

A circle for human transmutation.

"What the hell is this?" he asked vehemently, pointing to the offending chalk drawing.

"Surely you must recognise it, Fullmetal," Roy responded.

"Of course I do. What do I look like, an idiot?"

Roy bit back the urge to rise to the bait, simply shaking his head and shuffing toward Edward.

"General... what are you trying to do? You're being stupid!"

His head inclined in a nod, Roy gave a dry chuckle. "Yes, I know I am. Don't worry... everything is going to be fine."

And with that, Edward slumped, knocked unconsicous by a well placed hit to the neck.

Roy was mildly surprised at how much Fullmetal weighed, then dismissed it, remembering his metal limbs.

He put the boy in the center of the circle, careful not to smudge any of the lines, then stepped back out, pinching the bridge of his nose. With a sigh, he cast a gaze at the blonde, then dropped to his knees and activated the reaction.

The light gleamed, glowing brighter gold with every second. It crackled with sheer energy as it enveloped the small figure that was Ed.

Roy couldn't see what was happening- the light was too bright- but he knew what was going on. He could almost _sense_ Ed's automail limbs dissapating.

* * *

A searing pain woke Ed, enough so that he gaped at what he saw. His automail was being deconstructed! The alchemy reached his leg and arm ports, taking them apart as well. He grimaced and squeezed his eyes shut, fighting down the urge to scream. He failed, and a harsh yelp leapt from his throat.

And then... it was over. No more pain... no more light...

For some reason, he was staring at Roy's stucco ceiling. He groaned and pushed himself up, body shaking slightly and mind confused. He was about to put his hand to his head when he noticed that it was the color of skin.

_Why is my automail-_

"Holy shit!" Ed was looking at his right hand. Flesh. Completely human. He moved his leg. He could _feel_ the fabric of his pants against his skin. _SKIN._

"Holy shit," he said again, now shifting his gaze to Roy. "Mustang, how did you-"

The other alchemist was lying on the floor, limp and looking as though he was sleeping.

"Oi, General, don't tell me you fell asleep.

...General?

General?

ROY!"

Edward scrabbled over to Roy's limp form, quickly looking him over. He put a hand over the General's mouth. No breath. No rise and fall of chest. Ed shifted his hand to Roy's neck.

No pulse.

"Oh, shit. No! Come on, please, no!"

Ed's whole body was shaking now. His hands were the worst. He tried to calm himself down by talking.

"There's gotta be a way to... I'll use alchemy!" But something in his mind whispered _there's not enough time. You can't find the right things that fast._

Ed swallowed, trying to figure out something to do. Finally, he jumped up and nearly knocked over the phone, fingers tremoring as he dialed. He spouted as much information as he could at the medic on the other end of the line, finishing with a "hurry!" then went back to Roy.

_By the time they get here, it'll be too late. NO! There's gotta be something._

That something clicked. Almost mechanically, Ed adjusted Roy's bigger body so he was laying on his back. He folded his hands together, put them in the middle of Roy's chest and pushed down as hard as he could.

A sickening crack followed.

Ed grimaced, feeling the general's ribs give way, but he gulped and continued. _Thirty compressions..._

He tilted Roy's head back, hesitated, then bent down and breathed into his mouth twice.

Nothing.

Again, pushed on Roy's chest, willing the man's heart to start up again.

Two more breaths.

Ed's vision began to become bleary and tears splashed onto his working hands.

_You can't be dead. I swore I was gonna kill you, but I never meant it... come on, I don't want you to die..._

Two more breaths. Ed wiped his eyes and started more compressions.

"Damn it... he's not dead," the blonde said hoarsely, tears once more clouding his vision. "You can't be dead."

Two more breaths.

"Come on... Roy... please... I- I need you."

* * *

Ten minutes later, Edward collapsed, out of breath and nearly delirious, onto Roy's chest. His vision was still blurred by tears and he pounded his fist weakly, trying to get Roy to wake up.

"Please, no... you have to get up. You can't die."

Two minutes later, the medics found them like that.

* * *

Edward had seen the paper laying next to the phone when the medics took him out of the house. Seeing his name, he grabbed for it.

He hadn't opened it until after the funeral.

_Now I lay me down to sleep,_

_I pray the Lord my soul to keep_

_And if I die before I wake_

_I pray the Lord my soul to take_

Under the scribbled lines was a note.

_Work toward the sun, Fullmetal. You're not close enough to melt your wings yet._

_Goodbye, Edward._

_Roy_

There was another little scribble that had been crossed out, written sort of sideways on the edge of the paper.

It read: _I love you._

"You bastard," Ed whispered to the headstone. "You're just gonna leave me here without even a goodbye to my face? I always knew I hated you."

Warm tears trekked down his cheeks as he turned his face to the ground and closed his eyes, glad there was no one here to see him cry.

Suddenly, a warm hand touched his cheek, wiping away his tears. "Fullmetal... Edward. I'd never leave you behind."

Ed slowly reached up to touch the hand, but all he felt was his own skin. He lifted his head...

but no one was there.


	2. Alchemy

(A/N: The references to the societies, etc. are completely based on fact.)

* * *

Everything was perfect.

Two years of hard work had, hopefully, not gone awry. The meticulously etched symbols, the notes scattered aimlessly around...

The blood drying on the concrete...

...So everything _wasn't_ completely perfect. This war wasn't something that he'd expected. Hell, no one had expected it. The troops had begun the slow move what seemed like ages ago. He had too many things on his mind to join them. Even if he did, it seemed like they- the people who called themselves 'Aryan'- had a vendetta against pretty much everyone without blonde hair and blue eyes.

Take it on the Fuhrer not to notice his own lack thereof.

A tired smirk graced his face. He was surprised to have lasted this long, but he supposed being a double-agent had given him some opportunity he wouldn't have had otherwise.

The White Rose Society, a resistance group opposed to the regime now in place, kept his name and membership under the radar of the government while he pulled some strings to allow himself to access information and ties with the Third Empire. Something on his conscience had once nagged him, but it had stopped long ago. This was about more than just himself. He'd made a promise.

Earlier that day, a skirmish had broken out. He looked at the gunshot wound on his shoulder that he'd hastily bandaged, thanking and cursing his luck all at once. Those other people hadn't been so lucky. Many had died and even more were injured. Those left unscathed enough tended to those who would, no doubt, die. They had no access to supplies and what they did have was going downhill fast; they couldn't hold out like that.

There was a sense of regret niggling in the back of his mind, but he shook it off and finished preperations.

_This has got to work... there's no other way. Death comes too easily to these people_ he thought, drawing around the near-dead form. No one stopped him. They didn't understand; didn't know... didn't care.

_Equivalent Exchange... what a concept._

His charcoal was almost completely gone when he filled in the last thick line of the array he'd worked on for many a sleepless night.

"Sorry, old man," he said quietly to the form within the circle, then turned around, himself now in it as well, and pressed his hands to the edge.

_Work... please, work. I have to get back._

... A faint purple light slowly formed, seeping into the settling dark of Munich.

...And Roy Mustang faded out of existance.


	3. Edward

(A/N: First of all, thanks for all the reviews. Oh, and the alchemy books referred to are real.The Ripley Scroll is from the 16th century. The rest are from the 17th century.)

* * *

The Colonel had become quite good at balancing his pencil on his nose. He'd tried many a thing to keep his mind busy and do as litte actual _work_ as possible; it was a learning experience and, sad to say, he'd actually taken a few pointers from The Bastard, miracle of all miracles. 

Being confined to the office and doomed to do paperwork for the rest of eternity under the watchful eye of Lieutenant Colonel Hawkeye was not something he was fond of, though... nor was becoming a human sieve. He _liked_ his internal organs, thank you very much.

Even after all this time- how long had it been, anyway? Two years?- he was still grumpy. He shouldn't have to sit around in an office all day. Whatever happened to sending him out on pointless missions? At least those had been fun. Sure, a pain in the ass, with that damnable bastard breathing down his neck and wild goose chases and having to come back with nothing to report and... and... something to keep him going.

With Al restored and living happily back in Risembool, helping Winry design better automail with the use of alchemy... and what Roy had done for him... What was he supposed to do now? Waste away in a boring job like this?

Just as he was pondering sending himself on a damn mission, Major Audura knocked and opened his office door.

"Colonel Elric, you've been requested to head an investigation about something south of here, near the edge of town. Something about alchemy."

_Finally_, Ed thought, standing. "Great. We'll leave immediately. Round up my team and get me the location. We meet at the gate in ten minutes."

Audura saluted. "Yessir!"

* * *

"We've had our men cordon off the area. No one's been allowed inside, not even the military. We figured the expertise of the Fullmetal Alchemist would be the best idea to go from," the driver said, pulling up to a large building that looked about ready to fall over. 

Ed got out of the car, shortly followed by three others. They went closer before he raised a hand to stop them. "This looks dangerous, so I'll go in first. Check the perimeter and the cordoned area thoroughly for any signs of disturbance or alchemy while I'm gone. If I need backup, I'll call."

The three men saluted and separated, one to each side of the building, leaving Ed the front.

He took the steps carefully, moving on the balls of his feet. Once he got inside the door, though, he thought better, taking a small flashlight from his breast pocket and drawing his gun. Only then did he continue.

It looked like the building hadn't been used recently; the steps he took caused small puffs of dust to rise. The motes danced in the beam of his light as it swept the room. Nothing unusual.

He kept moving, ignoring the stairs to the second floor for the moment. Through a hallway hung with pictures was a small library. The door squeaked when he pushed it fully open.

Books were scattered, some open, far more in stacks and hardly any on the bookshelves. Loose papers coated the floor. He stepped over several stacks, coming to the middle of the room, and picked up some papers, leafing through them.

Alchemy notes. Ingedients for transmutation, sketches of arrays. Ed recognized all of the symbols that he'd memorized long ago; fire, water, creation... and the omega, the sign for death.

Brow wrinkled in confusion, he scanned the books.

_The Ripley Scroll, The Glory of Light, The Hermetic Triumph, The Hermetic Arcanum..._ All of these were allegorical and philosophical. Then, something caught his eye. _The Six Keys of Eudoxus._

He knelt in front of that stack and looked at the books around it. Physical alchemy. All of them. They all had to do with the Stone and properties of organic transmutation. Human transmutation, chimeras and vague, unattempted ideas.  
_  
What the hell_ is_ this?_ he wondered. His eyes dropped to the last book on the stack and he paused. There was no dust here. Someone had come recently, and more than once. He stood, stalked back through the door and continued down the hall, running his fingers along the ugly wallpaper.

Two doors. He let the first swing open; a plain bathroom with a white tile floor. Nothing interesting. Ed tried the second door's handle, but it was locked, from the inside, no less. Either there was someone still in there, or they had escaped some other way.

There is no other way, he reminded himself as he clapped and alchemized the lock open. The door swung easily, causing no noise from the well-oiled hinges.

It was dark, but there were stairs, and a sliver of light illuminated the bottom step. The stairs groaned and creaked in protest as he made his way down, gun and flashlight at the ready.

The light flickered. Ed stopped and almost held his breath. It went steady, then flickered again, though it didn't go out. A candle. Ed breathed out and took the last few steps.

The door to the second part of the cellar was partway open, letting the candlelight spill out. He got close and looked through, but saw no movement and no shadows.

"Military Operations. Cease activity and put your hands in the air. I'm armed and will not hesitate to fire," he called, then waited. No answer. Once again, he pushed the door open silently and stepped forward.


	4. Victim

There were even more books scattered on the floor and in stacks against the walls. Vials, jars and basins littered the desks and tables, unrecognizable liquids and powders in them. Transmutation circles were drawn skillfully everywhere, even on the ceiling.

He shuddered, cringing. Though it lacked the cages of chimeras, this lab reminded him of the one in Shou Tucker's basement.

His eyes followed the line of candles on a shelf affixed to the wall on his right, and he stepped forward, over the circles, books and notes. The room was L-shaped, and there were more lit candles on a shelf around the corner.

He brushed his thumb instinctively over the safety on the gun; it was still off.

His eyes narrowed as the circle came into view. It was huge, covering all but the smallest areas of the corners on the far side of the room, and stood out blaringly white against the dusky, dark glow of the candles.

He traced the outer circle with his eyes and suddenly realized that it was incomplete. No. Not incomplete. Something was blocking it. Warily, he brought up his flashlight to shine on the obstruction.

A foot, a leg... oh, shit! It was a person! No answer to his earlier call meant that something had obviously happened, and since there had been no attack so far, there was likely not going to be one.

Action now, questions later. Without preamble, he took the other's arm and slung it over his shoulder. Surprisingly, the limp figure was light and easy to carry, and Ed shambled along and up the creaky stairs. Finally, he looked at the person he carried.

Matted hair obscured sunken, closed eyes, and the pale face, sporting a five-o-clock shadow, was slack in unconsciousness. Eyes quickly scanning lower allowed Ed a glimpse at poorly bandaged wounds that needed tending

_What the hell happened to you_? he asked silently, solidering down the hall, into the main room and toward the door.

"Medic!" he yelled, coming into the outdoor light. Immediately, two other officers were helping him, laying his rescue on a stretcher and carting him off to the waiting truck.

And that was when Edward did a double-take. It couldn't be. No way in _hell_.

He turned to an officer, one that just happened to be a major, and barked out, "Finish cleanup. No other victims. Paperwork's to be directed to my office and everything is expected to be in order as soon as possible."

He saluted to no one in particular, then turned and dashed toward the medic van. "I'm going with you," he announced.

The medics looked to each other, then one shrugged. "I guess it's okay, sir."

"Damn right it is," Ed snapped back, stepping up and into the back of the van, after which the medics closed the doors and got in the front to go.

Ed looked down at the man lying on the table.

"Dammit, Mustang, where the hell have you been?"


End file.
